


Make Me Stay

by Lynds



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Dom Charles, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erik Has Feelings, Erik has Issues, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Poor Charles, Poor Erik, Post Beach Divorce, Post X-Men: First Class, Post-Canon, Sub Erik, Telepathic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 14:24:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19871104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynds/pseuds/Lynds
Summary: Charles thought he'd seen Erik for the last time on that hellish beach in Cuba, but Erik keeps coming back. Charles tells him, every single time, that he could stay - he'll always be welcome with Charles. But Erik always makes it clear that Charles would have tomakehim. And of course, Charles would never do such a thing, even though he has visions of Erik on his knees in front of him every time he says such things.And one day, he realises they're not just his visions. And Erik really doesn't know how to ask for the things he wants.





	Make Me Stay

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [EC | Make Me Stay](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20418653) by [EntropyF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntropyF/pseuds/EntropyF)



Erik came back sooner than Charles anticipated. He thought he’d seen the last of him that awful day on the beach in Cuba, but the day Charles came home from the hospital, there was Erik, appearing from the shadows of his bedroom.

Erik stood by his bedside in silence. The helmet was a black hole in Charles’ senses, a headache concentrated into that one small space. It made him feel sick, made him think of sweltering heat, and sand, a coin and pain.

Charles blinked at him. Erik stared back, wordless. Erik flexed his hands, opened his mouth. Then shut it with a click, and was gone, slipping out of the window and out across the grounds in silence.

***

Charles thought _that_ would be the last time he saw him, but there he was a month later. Charles had just finished a grueling bout of physical therapy, his arms trembling as he pushed the wheels of his chair. All he wanted was a shower, something to give him back his humanity, and instead, there was Erik.

“Charles,” he said, surprised, like he wasn’t the one who’d sneaked in Charles’ window and was now poking around at Charles’ desk.

“Erik,” said Charles, too tired to be wary. He paused for a moment, then shook his head and rolled towards his bedroom. It made more sense to convert the ground floor library and attached living room into his apartment, at least until the modifications to the rest of the mansion had been completed.

Erik followed him, lost and uncertain. Or at least Charles supposed that’s what he was feeling. With that helmet on, who could tell? Charles didn’t care. He pulled his shirt over his head, tossed it onto the bed for now, then hooked his thumbs into the waist of his joggers before glaring at Erik. “Are you going to stand there and watch me the whole time?” he asked.

“You’re…” he cleared his throat. “You’re…”

“Paralysed,” Charles said shortly. “Apparently there’s no alternative to metal when pinning up one’s L3 vertebra, so I imagine you already know that.” He leaned hard to one side, tugging his pants and boxers down over one buttock, then switched to the other side, stripping himself naked and wheeling to the modified bathroom. He was proud of the way his body did not show how every working nerve tingled, attuned to Erik’s scrutiny, a compass in search of him.

“Is it permanent?” Erik asked, his voice a croak.

Charles considered saying something scathing. He looked at the catheter, the bath lift, the hoists, and sighed. “Yes.”

There was silence for a long time. Charles closed the bathroom door behind him.

He expected Erik to be gone when he came back out with a towel around his neck, another under his arse and folded around his lap. 

“I’m sorry,” Erik said, and Charles jumped, his body and mind so exhausted from the PT and the warm water that he hadn’t even noticed the hum of Erik’s mind. How? How could he have not noticed that?

“You’re not wearing your helmet,” Charles said, and his voice sounded young again.

Erik ran his fingers through his hair, looked down at that hateful thing in his hands. “You have metal wrapped around your spine,” he said at last. “Stainless steel and titanium, four pins. It felt… unfair.”

Charles regarded him, head tilted on one side, barely aware of the smile threatening his cheeks. “Thank you,” he said at last.

Erik turned his head away, a spike of anger piercing his thoughts. God, how Charles had missed it. “Don’t _thank_ me, Charles,” he spat. “I did this to you, I--”

“You did,” Charles interrupted. “But you didn’t mean to. You and Moira… I don’t actually blame either of you.”

“You don’t?” Erik’s voice was lost, small, his sea-glass eyes turned back to Charles. Something like hope flickered there.

“Not for this,” Charles said, setting his jaw. “For that fucking helmet. For planning to take over the world. For… for taking my sister, leaving me on a beach to bleed. I’m still rather pissed about that.”

“You told her to--”

“I’m also a fucking idiot, Erik,” he snapped, rolling past him to pull on some more clothes. “I… honestly, everything hurt, and when I hurt, I want to be left alone. I wanted all of you to go away, everyone. I tried to send Hank and Alex after you--”

“Why?” Erik demanded, his voice pitched high with anger and surprise.

“Really, Erik? Really? You want to know why a person would want to hide when they’re in pain? You, who won’t allow anyone to see a bare ounce of vulnerability?”

Erik gritted his teeth and Charles took a deep breath before tackling the long process of putting on a pair of pyjama pants. Because fuck proper trousers, honestly. His elbow slipped off the arm-rest as he struggled to pull them up, and he grunted. Erik made an abortive step to help. Charles was glad he stopped, or he might have had to dive into his mind, turn him into a puppet and walk him right back out of the window had he tried to patronise him.

By the time he’d pulled the drawstring tight, he was breathing hard again and sweating. “I’d bloody well better get used to this,” he muttered, half to himself. “This level of fitness is unacceptable.”

“You’ve been in hospital for four months,” Erik said dryly.

“Yes, well.” He stared out of the window. “You could always stay, you know,” he said, quietly enough that he wasn’t sure if Erik heard.

“You’re a psychic,” Erik said, his gaze boring a hole into the side of Charles’ head. “You could convince me to do anything.”

Erik didn’t mean it like that. Even so, Charles fumbled with his shirt, images of Erik… no, no, he wasn’t going to think those things, not again. Charles looked up at Erik. “Goodbye, my friend,” he said, keeping everything locked away where it was safe and could only poison himself.

***

Erik didn’t stay away. He brought Raven home for the Xaviers to talk and argue and scream and cry and apologise to one another. He brought injured colleagues for Hank to patch up, ignoring his dark looks. He brought home an amnesiac Darwin, and Charles turned his face away from the grief and joy and wonder in Alex’s eyes and mind as he touched Darwin’s face, reintroduced himself through his tears. 

He started to bring other mutants he’d found on his questionable journeys. Children rescued from the horror of research facilities, who kept the faculty busy as they settled into life in the school. He brought adult mutants they’d found who didn’t want to fight with the Brotherhood. He brought Charles a birthday present.

And always, Charles made the mistake of asking if Erik would stay _this time_. He couldn’t bring himself not to - he needed Erik to know he would always have a place in Westchester, would always have a place in Charles’ heart. But every time, Erik made it clear that for him to stay, Charles would have to _make_ him stay, use his power in a way he would never.

When Erik came back one day in late Spring, he was dripping blood and emaciated from months trapped in a facility. Charles had been going frantic for weeks, desperate to find him, sure that he wouldn’t have left in silence against his will, but still with that little voice in the back of his mind saying ‘are you sure? He always leaves, he always will. It was only a matter of time.’

When Erik collapsed on the floor at Charles’ feet, his head falling onto Charles’ knees, his first thoughts were everything they should be, horror at Erik’s state, relief at having him safe. He called for Alex and Hank, comforted the children, held Erik’s hand as he slept. But he kept the second thoughts trapped and berated behind locked doors in his mind. Because he’d been triumphant. Erik knew where he belonged.

***

He found him standing in his study one Saturday afternoon, his gaze wandering across the lake and the groups of children playing together. “How are you feeling?” Charles asked with a smile, rolling up alongside him.

“Better,” he said. “Thank you.”

Erik never looked into his eyes when he thanked him, always stiff and reluctant, afraid to show gratitude in case someone recognised it as a weakness. Recognised something Erik _wanted_ , and took it away.

Charles sighed. He could feel Erik’s restlessness humming in every thought, knew the time was coming once again, and he wished…

“You know, you could stay,” he began.

Erik’s mind sharpened. “You could make me,” he said.

The thought was like a bolt to the base of Charles’ skull, Erik on his knees at Charles’ feet, hands resting on his thighs, oh God, or behind his back. Face tilted up and so at peace, and-- “Enough!” Charles said aloud, his breath harsh. How could he? How dare he think such things about Erik, think of trapping him that way? “Do you really think I would?” he asked, staring up at Erik, begging him to believe him.

Erik blinked and took a half-step backwards, his mind stuttering.

“Do you really think that of me?” Charles asked, advancing on him. “How could you think that I’d take your freedom away from you, after everything that’s been done to you? After the… the abuse you’ve suffered… you really think I’d take away your power like that?”

_Please, Charles._

Charles stopped, eyes wide, and stared up at him. “What?”

Erik gritted his teeth and looked away. “Nothing,” he said. 

“No, Erik…”

But he was already turning, his back ramrod straight, marching towards the door, and Charles panicked. “Stop,” he commanded.

Erik froze, his body so still that Charles had to look hard, really check that he hadn’t _made_ him stop. That he wasn’t controlling Erik, making him into a non-consenting puppet. But this was all Erik, vibrating with tension, wanting to flee so hard, and wanting… something else.

“Come here,” he said, his voice firm, marble laced through with the absolute love he felt for this impossible man.

Erik took a shuddering breath, then turned and walked back to Charles, stopping right in front of him. His hands were twitching, clenching and unclenching. He was terrified.

“The image of you on your knees for me,” said Charles softly. “That wasn’t my thought, was it?”

Erik’s thoughts pulsed, whirling and eddying and desperate. Charles felt like he was stepping off the edge of a cliff. “Do you want me to tell you to stay?”

The clamour of voices in Erik’s head were almost deafening, impossible to parse into what he wanted, what he needed, what he would never consider.

“I’m going to need you to tell me, Erik,” Charles said, very firmly. “Do you want this?”

He sent a sequence of thoughts into Erik’s mind, one following another in a neat progression. Erik on his knees for Charles, Erik’s hands behind his back, Erik’s lips around Charles’ cock. 

“Yes,” said Erik hoarsely. His hands and jaw were clenched so tight that the metal in the room vibrated.

“Breathe,” said Charles, remembering to inject his voice with some of that same authority. His head was spinning, almost breathless with want, and although he couldn’t feel it, he was almost certain if he looked down he would be hard now. He clenched his own hands into fists. This was for Erik. And yet this was also for him, it was all he had ever wanted, the chance to care for Erik, show him how loved he was, how perfect. How he didn’t need to hold himself so sharp.

“Come here,” said Charles, beckoning. “On your knees for me.”

Erik dropped to his knees so hard that it must have hurt. Rather than sitting back on his haunches, relaxed and tempting, he held himself rigid and upright, more like he was awaiting humiliation, or execution. Charles’ heart ached for him. 

“I need to trust that you can tell me if you don’t like what I’m doing,” he said, rolling forward and snapping the brakes on his chair. Erik’s thoughts swirled and panicked again, and Charles frowned slightly. “But I don’t think you can tell me, not like that,” he said, musing out loud. “And I’m not sure I can rely on your thoughts, they’re too contradictory at times. We need a word without association for you.” 

_A word that others have not ignored already_ , he thought to himself. He glanced out of the window at the bright sunlight on the flowerbeds. “Foxglove,” he said, smiling down at Erik. “Can you say that? If you want me to stop anything at all, say it in my mind or out loud, and I’ll stop.” He tilted Erik’s chin up. “Can you say that?”

“Foxglove,” said Erik immediately, his blue-green eyes locked on Charles’, flickering over Charles’ face as if he was looking for some trick.

Charles smiled. “Thank you. Now… kiss me.”

Erik let out a sharp breath like he’d been punched, then surged forwards, his long fingers cupping Charles’ jaw, whimpering into his lips. Charles held the back of his skull, clutching at his hair, tugging on the curls, spiralling into the feel of him, the impossibility, the sheer perfection of the man he had loved for so long wanting the same things as him, the things he had hidden deep down in his mind where it couldn’t hurt anyone, but this… to have Erik here, giving himself over to Charles, it was a precious gift that made his head spin.

He might have thought he was dreaming, or fooling himself, but around him Erik’s thoughts spun and tangled. His fear, his yearning, the _need_ to relinquish control, to let someone else make the hard choices for once! And the ferocity he’d hidden behind all his life because who could he trust? Who would make choices that Erik could rely on? People would only use it as a tool, as some way to manipulate him… until Charles.

Charles tugged Erik’s hair and pulled away, exposing Erik’s long neck, the adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Erik’s eyes were dark, blown black with arousal, and Charles wanted. “Sit back,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Let me see you.”

Erik sat back on his haunches, his hands resting on his thighs the way he’d imagined. The way they’d both been imagining for so long. Charles let his gaze trail down Erik’s body, following every line and angle, desperate and yet willing to take his time with him. “Unbutton your shirt,” he said, and Erik complied immediately, the panicked maelstrom of his thoughts settling back into simple tasks that he knew he could do correctly. “That’s right,” Charles said softly. “You don’t have to make any decisions now. You’re doing perfectly. Let me take care of you, my darling. You’re so beautiful.”

Erik’s lean body appeared, inch by inch, from the V at his collarbones to the trail of coarse hair disappearing into his trousers. The bulge beneath made Charles swallow. “Stand up,” he said, and Erik lifted himself to his feet. Charles tugged on his belt loops and pulled him closer, to stand between Charles’ legs. He undid the little buttons at Erik’s cuffs, stroked the soft material off his arms so that the shirt fell, held only where it was tucked in at his waist.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking the flat of his hand over Erik’s stomach, listening to Erik’s breathing shudder. “The things I’ve thought of doing to you, Erik, you have no idea.”

Erik cleared his throat. “You’d be surprised,” he said, almost in a whisper.

Charles smirked up at him and pressed a kiss to the skin above his navel. “Then I very much look forward to being surprised by some of your fantasies, but today…” He unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his slacks, and Erik’s voice disappeared beneath a deep, trembling breath as he tugged his pants down, exposing the damp patch on his boxers.

“Trousers off,” said Charles, his eyes fixed on Erik’s erection. “No, darling, just the trousers, there… yes. Now come.” He brushed his fingers down the back of Erik’s thighs, his hairs coarse against Charles’ fingertips. “Kneel over my legs.”

Erik hesitated, and Charles looked up, tilting his head to one side. “No? What part don’t you like, love?”

Erik swallowed. “Your legs… I don’t want to hurt you.”

Charles huffed. “Darling, I rather think that’s the last thing you can hurt of mine.”

Erik frowned, and Charles squeezed his hands. “Sorry, that was… I do know what you mean. I won’t know if you do any damage, so you’ll have to be careful. But I’m no more or less fragile than anyone else.”

“But you can still…” he trailed off, but Charles caught a glimpse of his thoughts, images that made his eyelids flutter with pure lust. 

“Yes,” Charles said, tugging him forward by his hips. “I can’t feel it the same way, but I can get psychogenic erections - orgasms too. The doctors keep telling me the mind is the most important sex organ.” He smirked up at Erik. 

Erik didn’t smile back. He stroked the back of his fingers down Charles’ cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

Charles saw it all, the self-loathing, the soul-deep belief that Erik was toxic, that he was responsible for all the pain around him, for his mother’s death and for Charles’ paralysis, and Charles wasn’t having it. “Come here,” he said firmly, pulling Erik down to kneel on the seat of the wheelchair, on either side of Charles’ thighs. He kissed him, both arms wrapped around his back, pulling him closer, wanting to touch every inch of him.

But this wasn’t what he wanted most of all. He pulled back to look up at Erik, at his dilated pupils, his kiss-bitten lips, and he wanted to show him how precious, how loved he was. He ran his hands across Erik’s chest, tipping his head back to look at him, his lanky body curled over Charles’. 

“Stay there, darling,” Charles said, and his hand drifted lower over Erik’s stomach, cupping his cock through the soft material of his boxers. Erik sucked in a breath and his cock jumped under Charles’ hand. “Stay just there, like that, and let me make you feel good.”

“Charles,” he whispered, his hands clenching into the leather at the back of Charles’ chair. 

Charles smiled up at him and ran his hand up the length of Erik’s cock, the material sliding along his shaft. He could feel Erik’s lust soaking through his shields, almost overwhelming, but just muted enough that he could keep control, make sure he drew every ounce of pleasure from him. “That’s right, love.” He laid kisses along Erik’s chest, stroking up and down, maddeningly light. The material at the tip of Erik’s cock was damp, and Charles pressed lightly on the wet spot, circling around so that Erik moaned.

He slipped his other hand into the back of Erik’s boxers and cupped his arse, grabbing the flesh and squeezing tight, rubbing up the length of his cock again, and Erik threw his head back, one shaking hand burying itself in Charles’ hair. Charles circled a nipple with the tip of his tongue, pulling the elastic away from Erik’s belly, reaching in to wrap his hand around Erik’s cock. They both groaned at the same time. Charles spread his fingers through the precum on the tip, and slicked downwards, his thumb pressed against Erik’s glans while his fingers wrapped around the full girth of him, pumping slowly, the silky skin hot as a brand on his palm. 

Erik bit his lip and reached down for Charles’ erection, still trapped in his slacks, and Charles batted his hand away. “No,” he said. “Just feel, Erik, let me take care of you. I want you to come undone in my hand, on my fingers.”

There was the slightest flicker of pink flowers in Erik’s thoughts, and Charles stilled, searching Erik’s face. “What is it?”

Erik clenched his fists, wouldn’t look at Charles. “I’ve never let anyone…”

Charles nodded slowly. “Would you like to?”

“I don’t know,” he said, frustration spiking through him. 

“That’s OK,” Charles said, stroking one hand up his ribs, while the other started a slow rhythm on his cock again. “Do you like this?”

Erik shuddered. “Yes. God, yes.”

Charles nodded, circling his nipple with a fingertip. “Do you like this?”

Erik nodded, biting his lip. 

“Would you like me to do this to your arse?” he asked, sending him an image, a remembered sensation, fingers brushing along his crack and down, just staying on the outside, circling, rubbing, pressing. Erik whimpered and nodded again.

Charles smiled and twisted on the upstroke, his hand sliding off Erik’s cock and over the head, slicking his palm up at the wet tip and sliding back down. He reached up, touching Erik’s lips with two fingers. “Suck,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.

Erik opened his mouth immediately, his eyes shut, his face flushed, and Charles had to close his own eyes and bite his lip as he felt Erik’s tongue work between his fingers, his mouth so wet and warm. He squeezed and pulled on Erik’s cock, and Erik moaned around his fingers. He let go of Erik’s cock for a moment, tugging his boxers as far down as they could go, the elastic tense around his legs where they were spread over Charles’, and then picked up his rhythm again, watching Erik’s cock slide through his fist, feeling the silk of his tongue over his fingers, his blood boiling with the lust permeating the room.

When he pulled his fingers free from Erik’s mouth, they were slick and shining. Charles leaned forwards to kiss Erik’s chest, rubbing over the head of his cock with his thumb as he curled his other hand around Erik’s arse. He leaned forward and licked around his nipple, sucking and kissing, still stroking and pulling on his cock, and as Erik cupped one hand at the back of Charles’ head, he stroked gently along Erik’s hole, brushing spit-slick fingers over the puckered skin. He pressed, sliding a fingertip over him, curling circles and lines along his crease. Erik gave a shuddering moan, and Charles almost couldn’t bear it, the feel of him coming apart under his hands, his face flushed with pleasure, long lashes fluttering over his cheekbones. He sped up, his breathing almost as harsh as Erik’s his fingers spreading the last of the saliva slickness around his hole. Erik’s fingers gripped frantically in Charles’ hair, his hips rocking up into Charles’ fist and back down against his finger, deep moans and bitten off cries. “Charles… Charles, more please, God, please!”

Charles pressed his forehead against Erik’s collarbone, watching his cockhead, flushed a dark purple and leaking precome, as he sped up his pace again. He could hear Erik’s thoughts, single minded, entirely present and focused on that one end, that one pleasure he was almost drowning in. Charles looked up at his face, his lower lip caught between his teeth, his brow creased as Charles pulled him higher and higher. 

“Erik,” Charles murmured, feeling the sensations in the room balanced on a knife edge, feeling Erik hovering. “Come for me, love,” he said, and slipped one fingertip just inside him. Erik cried out, his head tipping back, his cock pulsing in Charles’ hand, his entire body clenching rhythmically, his thoughts shattered out into dust, and it was all Charles could do to hold on, wanting to ride the coat-tails of his orgasm and follow him over, wanting to watch, soak up the sight and sensations greedily, consume him.

Charles kissed him on the neck, on the chest, breathless with the perfect vision Erik made, his head thrown back and his back arched. He felt his cock pulse under his fingers again and again as he stroked him through it, out the other side and into oversensitivity. Erik slumped, his head bowing low enough for Charles to reach up and kiss him, wrapping his arms tight around Erik’s back with no regard for the mess.

Erik slipped bonelessly off his lap, pushing Charles’ legs apart to settle between them. He rested his cheek on Charles’ thigh and looked up at him, his beautiful eyes drunk with the come-down. Charles bit his lip, his skin tingling with the vision of debauchery he made.

Erik brushed his fingers over Charles’ erection, watched it twitch. “If I suck you, you won’t feel it?” he said.

“No,” Charles said, his voice hoarse. “But… I’ll see.” He closed his eyes as the thought burned through him, Erik’s head bobbing in his lap, Charles’ fingers clenched in his hair. 

Erik looked up, then took Charles’ fingers to press onto his temple. “What about this? Can you feel this?”

Charles could have wept. He’d been so good, staying out where he wasn’t wanted, taking only what Erik could give him, and it was enough, he would have counted it as enough had this been the end of it, but to be invited back into his mind! “Are you sure?” he asked, hating the high pitch of his voice, the pleading in his tone.

Erik unbuttoned his trousers, tugged Charles’ slacks down, releasing his cock to spring free. “See what I’ve been wanting since I first met you, Charles,” he said, and as he took his cock into his mouth, it was like his mind reached out for Charles’ and pulled him in.

Charles cried out, he must have, his mind engulfed in the wet heat of Erik’s fantasies, thoughts of Charles fucking into him as the chess pieces tumbled off the table, of straddling Charles on the bed, lowering himself onto Charles’ cock, the room thick with pleasure and trust and something Charles had tried to keep from hoping for. Erik’s hands wandered under Charles’ shirt, across his chest, along the sharp sensitivity of his nipples, and the touch of him, their shared visions, were too much, and everything burned to white.

When the world returned, Charles was breathing hard, his fingers petting automatically through Erik’s curls. He looked down at him, staring in wonder at his beautiful smile that tilted up to meet him.

He wanted to say it, wanted to tell him how much he loved him, had loved him and never stopped since the moment he met him, but he couldn’t put that on him. He didn’t want to scare him off, what if it was all too much for Erik?

Erik knelt up and kissed Charles slowly. Charles could taste himself on his tongue, and wanted to hold him tight, never let him go, but he forced his hands to stay soft.

 _You know you’re still in my mind_ , Erik said, the amused hum of his voice still present in his thoughts. 

Charles pulled back in horror, scrambling for the tendrils of thought that had already embedded themselves deep in Erik’s mind, he was never going to trust him again, going to run—

“Charles,” he said sharply, holding Charles’ hand against his own temple. “I want you here.” He closed his eyes and leaned into Charles’ palm. “I want to trust you. I want you by my side, always.”

As Charles relaxed he could feel the truth of it. Every emotion, Erik’s fear, his rage, his desire to trust Charles. How he already trusted Charles more than any person alive.

 _And… I love you_ , Erik said. _I can tell you’re avoiding that._

 _I didn’t want to just be seeing what I want to see,_ Charles admitted.

“You always have been an idiot,” Erik said, and Charles grinned at how the sarcasm could come easily, the quiet words of love sacred to the shared space in their minds. He pulled Erik forward and kissed him, time stretching out into something elastic, afternoon shadows moving slowly over their skin.

***

“Will you stay?” Charles asked later when the night had cooled to the two of them curled up in Charles’ bed. “Please, love, stay here?”

Erik tightened his arm around his waist, right at the junction of sensation and silence. “All the time?” he asked, and Charles could feel the fear of being trapped.

“Of course not,” he said quickly. “Just… let this be your home. The place you return to.”

Erik leaned up to kiss him. “Charles, it already is. Haven’t you noticed?”

He cupped Erik’s cheeks in both hands and kissed him fiercely, hopefully, afraid to let him go. 

“I said I want you by my side,” Erik murmured into his mouth. “I always will.”

Charles bit his lip. “I still don’t believe in taking over, Erik. I don’t want a new world order with mutants on top. I just want us all to be safe.”

“I know,” said Erik, nodding and kissing him. “So do I. I don’t… peace doesn’t come naturally to me,” he admitted. “But I can try.”

Charles pulled him closer, kissing along his jaw to his temple, covering him with love and gratitude.

 _I can’t promise I’ll be a pacifist,_ Erik warned. He pulled back to look Charles in the eye, worry and defiance warring. “If I hear of another of those places torturing our people, I won’t stand aside. Not even…” _Not even for you._

Charles let thoughts of the people, the children Erik had brought to their sanctuary, swirl between them. The memories he’d seen from some so incredibly young, and he nodded. “You won’t have to, my friend,” he said. “I’ll be there with you.”

Erik’s fierce joy lit up, sparking in his mind as he leaned down to kiss him hard. He saw himself in Erik’s mind, the two of them side by side and invincible, Erik standing tall with his arm out, power thrumming around him. Charles sitting beside him on his chair, more fierce and beautiful than he had ever truly been.

“I’m sorry,” Charles whispered into Erik’s hair, staring out into the moonlight. Erik squirmed against him, humming a question. “I’m sorry for thinking there was another way with Shaw. I should have trusted you to know. There was never any option where he was concerned, and I should have believed you.”

Erik pushed himself up on his elbows again and looked into Charles eyes, wondering, cautious, painfully hopeful. “I thought you’d hate me,” he said at last, and in a soft echo in his mind, Charles heard _I hated myself for disappointing you._

Charles closed his eyes, remorse biting at him. “I couldn’t hate you, my love,” he said, stroking Erik’s cheek with his thumb. “I’ve known since the moment I pulled you out of the water that my heart belongs to you.”

Erik leaned down to kiss him, to press his face into the crook of Charles’ neck and cover him with his body, every cell reaching for Charles, and Charles reached back, wrapping him close. “You’re safe now, darling,” he murmured as Erik’s mind settled, surrounded in Charles’, and drifted slowly into peace.

**Author's Note:**

> I also write a sort-of-regular blog about my original novels on [Wordpress](https://wordpress.com/view/lynhemphillauthor.wordpress.com), and I talk all sorts of bollocks on Tumblr as [Gold-From-Straw](https://gold-from-straw.tumblr.com/) too! Come say hi if you like!


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